


Afterimages

by vostara



Category: John Wick (Comics), John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Blood and Violence, F/M, John goes by Jardani because I like it better ngl, Manipulation, Sci-Fi AU, Violence, tags will likely be updated as relevant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:02:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24669580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vostara/pseuds/vostara
Summary: [SCI-FI AU] Your father had always longed to figure out the origins of the universe, to discover the being that sparked life and creation. What was this unknown trigger? This entity? Jardani claims to know the answers that you seek, but are his words the truth?Santino D'Antonio x Reader, hinted John Wick x Reader[on an extended hiatus, but committed to finishing this project]
Relationships: John Wick/Female Reader, John Wick/Reader, John Wick/You, Santino D'Antonio/Female Reader, Santino D'Antonio/Reader, Santino D'Antonio/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	1. one — i focus on the pain, the only thing that's real

**Author's Note:**

> "This world, it doesn’t feel right.”

You know how the universe began. What the “Big Bang” really is.

Jardani has explained it to you, has shown you.

The universe began with an entity, a tiny speck. A blemish in the void. But this entity was lonely and gluttonous and continued to crave more than it was given. It consumed all that it touched, every bit of space that could possibly exist within this realm of nothingness. It wanted to encapsulate everything, to be everything. It filled the void, pushing itself, molding itself, into every corner, every crevice within its pocket.

And then, there was an explosion.

The void could no longer contain this entity. It could no longer bear the burden, the pain, of the entity pushing against its walls.

A cumulation of heat, of pressure, of energy, was released. And with it, came the fruition of time, light, and matter.

The entity expanded, desperate and eager to consume all of this new space. And with this stretch of form, it introduced an overwhelming inferno of heat. A flame that was intense, intoxicating. A true form of bliss and beauty.

Jardani displays the event in front of you, only for you. And you can’t draw your eyes away from it. You can’t blink. You can’t risk missing a single moment.

You raise a hand, reaching towards the light. The entity illuminates your skin, before consuming you. The force, this collision, stuns you and for a moment you can’t breathe. The sensation is overwhelming. You can’t think. You can’t even begin to process what is happening.

And then the light is gone.

The heat dissipates, leaving you freezing and discombobulated.

An unexpected result of the entity’s greed was life.

It began as a simple form, a simple being. The creation of a single-cell structure. A key that would unlock the future for complex beings, complex creations. This cell, this singular being, would one day mutate. It would learn how to clone itself, how to multiply at an exponential rate. It would begin to work in sync with others. And this hive mind, this collection of knowledge, would eventually give birth to more complex cell structures. It would learn to combine in ways that would form new type of being: individuals that could think for themselves, make decisions, choices.

But it’s not enough.

The entity, this God of the universe, isn’t satisfied.

The creation of life isn’t an accomplishment, it is an accident.

Your life is an accident, a fluke. You’re the result of cells combining in one specific way, in one specific moment. A tiny adjustment, and you would have never existed.

“Stop!” A voice calls out to you. They sound distressed.

And when you turn your head to see where the noise comes from, you find yourself standing on a beach. You can feel the cold waves of the ocean crashing against your thighs. You can feel every single grain of sand beneath your bare feet.

A man is running towards you. His brunette hair is curly and his green eyes are wide, worried. He sprints into the water, ignoring how the salt will ruin the perfectly tailored pants of his expensive navy suit. Ignores how his fine leather shoes will be destroyed beyond repair.

As he approaches, he reaches out for you. “What are you doing, _amore mio_?”

You know him.

You must.

But who is he?

He doesn’t touch you; he stops just before he can. The man frowns, concern etched into the fine lines of his features. “Where are you?”

You look away from him, raising your head to look up at the stars above.

“Look at me,” he pleads.

You don’t.

“Do you,” he pauses, “remember me?”

You know that he is important, that he has significance in your life. You know his face. You recognize it, you know you do, but where is it from?

“Jardani,” the name slips out, before you can stop yourself.

He must be Jardani, right?

Who else could it be?

The man clenches his jaw. He tries to hide it, but you notice.

Oh.

You’ve made a mistake, haven’t you?

“We’ve talked about this,” he says, after a few moments of silence. “Jardani isn’t real.”

In your ear, a voice whispers, “He’s lying.”

You blink and the beach disappears.

When you open your eyes, a sea of white is painted in front of you. A blanket of snow covers the soil and the barren trees of a forest. The woods are quiet, devoid of life.

You’re alone.

But something is wrong. This world, it doesn’t feel right. Something is off, incorrect.

You don’t feel the ice beneath your feet. You don’t shiver from the wind whipping at the nape of your bare neck.

Your left arm is flesh, real human flesh. You recognize the beauty marks on your hand, the freckles on your upper arm.

It’s your flesh.

You know it is.

But that can’t be true.

Hadn’t you lost your arm?

In the corners of your mind, you remember the explosion, followed by the excruciating pain. There was blood everywhere, streaming endlessly, pouring out of you. Someone was screaming, yelling, begging for you to stay with them.

The voice is familiar. You’ve heard it before. But where?

“Find me.”

Jardani is here. He’s calling for you.

“Follow the sound of my voice.”

You do as he says, trudging forward. Deeper and deeper into the woods you go.

“Where are you?” You call for him. “I want to see you.”

“You will,” he says. “You know where I am, you’ve been there before.”

As you continue walking, the forest grows darker. The sun is fading beyond the horizon, disappearing from the land.

“I have so many questions for you.” When he doesn’t respond, you continue. “What exactly is the entity? How do you know about it?”

Silence fills the air.

“I understand that it created the universe, but what created the entity itself?” You pause, pressing a hand against the bark of a nearby tree. You can feel the ridges brushing against your fingertips. It is the first notable sensation of touch you have experienced in this forest. “If the universe is all of time and space, how does it expand? What is it consuming?”

Finally, Jardani responds. “Even if I explain it to you, your mind is not capable of comprehending it. There is much I still need to teach, before we can even entertain the discussion you wish to have.”

“Then teach me!” You scream. “I want to learn!”

You take a step forward.

And then the ground beneath your feet disintegrates.

You are falling.

You can’t breathe. A liquid is suffocating you, forcing the air out of your lungs.

Arms wrap themselves around your waist, pulling you against their body. You thrash around, hitting them, trying to force them away from you.

“It’s me,” they try to soothe you, calm you down. “Come back to me, please.”

You know this voice.

You’re back on the beach, further away from the shore and drenched in the salt water. Staring down at you is the same man as before.

He’s panicked, but relieved to see you open your eyes.

“I know you,” a whisper escapes your lips.

The man pulls you into his arms, burying his face into the side of your neck. “Let’s go, out of the water,” he mutters.

His lips brushing against your skin are comforting. You dig your fingers into his back, clutching onto him as tightly as you can.

He cares for you. Perhaps, he even loves you.

“Santino?” You fear you’ve made a mistake, that you’ve spoken the wrong name again.

But he relaxes and gently rubs his hand against your back.

“Yes, I’m right here,” he says.

You glance down at your left arm, examining it. With the help of the moonlight, you can see that the skin is synthetic. It is too perfect, free of your natural blemishes. Your body trembles and you struggle to inhale and exhale. “Help me,” you cry, between gasps of air.

“I promise.” His voice is soft.

You believe him.


	2. two — suddenly my eyes are open, everything comes into focus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And how would you define life?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the overwhelming positive response and interest in this series! I hope you continue to enjoy this series in future installments.

“Why are you so interested in space?”

You open your eyes at the sound of Jardani’s voice. Once again, you are in the frozen forest. Laying on your back, the bare skin sinks into pillows of soft snow. But unlike before, you feel a hint of the chill seeping into your bones. When you exhale, a cloud of the water vapor blurs your view of the glimmering stars above you.

“My father,” you respond.

Though you’re certain you imagine it, you feel a brush of warmth glide against the skin of your cheek. The touch is gone before you truly register the sensation.

“He had a wanderlust for it,” you continue. “A desire to explore the farthest reaches of the universe. When I was a child, we spent many nights in our backyard. We would lie on the grass and he would point out the constellations, the planets. He would point at the shooting stars and remind me to make a wish before it was gone.”

The memories flood your mind.

And when a warm smile graces your lips. You remember how it felt to be a child. To be endlessly curious, inquisitive. To not understand your father’s ramblings, but still be able to realize that he was passionate. That he believed in his words, stood by his claims. That he craved answers to questions that have been asked over and over again, but remain unsolved.

Your father wanted to know how the universe began.

And though Jardani has answered that question for you, you still feel empty and confused. It feels as though the answer is insufficient, that it has only opened the doors for more questions.

“What do you see in the stars?” Jardani whispers into your ear.

You blink.

Then your eyes focus on a particular star that seems to glisten just a touch brighter than the others in the sky.

“Questions.”

When Jardani doesn’t respond, you elaborate on your answer.

“Human beings are not as special as we like to portray ourselves,” you say. “We only focus on life as it exists on planet Earth. And thus, our attempt to find evidence of life currently thriving elsewhere has been in vain. But the truth is that chances of nothing else existing is slim-to-none. It’s improbable that Earth is nothing more than a fluke for life. You’ve shown me that life has existed elsewhere and that it exists in other forms. You told me that the entity created the universe—”

“Are you ready for that conversation?” Jardani interrupts.

You nod your head. “Was the entity a form of life?”

“And how would you define life?”

You pause, taking a moment to piece together a coherent response. “A being that experiences self-awareness. It can make decisions; though some, if not all, of their choices are based purely on the being’s instinctive need to perform certain actions. Not all choices are made with free-will.”

Silence follows your words.

Had your answer failed to satisfy Jardani?

“Then yes,” he says, “the entity was a life form.”

You follow-up his response with another question. “So what created the entity?”

Jardani chuckles. “If you wish to understand that, then we must first change the way you’ve programmed your mind.”

The comment almost offends you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You say.

“That your brain is a little too human-centric. And that mentality is stopping you from comprehending the bigger picture.” The voice pauses. “You are correct, in assuming that the presence of life is not a singular fluke. But the other lifeforms that exist live far beyond the reach of humanity’s fingers. Humankind will cease to exist, long before it is able to figure out the correct combination of resources necessary to travel beyond their solar system.”

“The right combination?” You perk up at his words. “You’re saying that we already have the required materials?”

“You have always had the components needed,” he says. “Most have yet to be discovered and thoroughly studied, but they exist. And they are within your grasp. The problem lies within the species itself.”

A weight presses against your stomach.

Invisible fingers sink into your skin.

The touch should startle you, scare you. But it feels natural, welcoming. And your body softens at the contact.

“Humans no longer place value in the importance of science,” Jardani continues, “the significance of discovery. They’ve pushed aside their creativity, restricting their boundaries for experimentation.”

“You speak as though you are different from us,” you say.

Jardani’s reply is simple, but sharp. “I am.”

A pause in the conversation.

You take a moment to process his words, to determine how much weight the response holds. How different, really, is Jardani?

“So you’ve been watching us? Examining and dissecting the human mind.”

He hums an affirmation.

And you introduce a new question into the conversation. One that lingers in the back of your mind, unspoken and locked away. Until this moment, you weren’t sure if you wanted the answer, a confirmation that turns your suspicions into that of reality. “Then what are you, exactly?”

But he reads between your words, knows exactly what you long to ask. “No,” he says, “I am not the entity.”

Part of you is relieved by the response. But the answer leaves you more confused and inquisitive.

“I want to see you,” you say. “Is that possible?”

Quiet settles into the air. And it’s overwhelming, suffocating, consuming—

“Then look at me.”

But this voice, it isn’t Jardani. It is tender and loving, but unsure and cautious.

You turn your head to gaze at where the sound comes from. And as you do so, the frozen forest fades. Your bed of ice disintegrates. The chill disappears and a blanket of warmth floods your senses.

Your vision focuses on a pair of piercing emerald eyes, framed by a familiar head of tousled brunette curls.

Santino is with you.

And you’re tucked into a bed of pale blue satin sheets. A purchase that he had insisted on making, once the doctor had informed him that the color might sooth your mind and aid in your recovery. The beachside villa is flooded with the color, a display of Santino’s desperate attempt to mend the cracks developing in your mind. But for you, the color serves a different purpose. It displays a permanent reminder of your fading stability. It mocks your slipping grasp on conventionally agreed-upon reality.

He sees the disappointment on your face.

You hadn’t tried to hide it.

“You were talking in your sleep,” Santino says.

You blink and your eyes drift away from his gaze. You know that your words will upset him, but they still slip between your lips. “I was with Jardani.”

His arm is wrapped around your waist. You feel his muscles clench in response. He pulls your body towards him, wrapping you within his embrace.

He says nothing else to you for the remainder of the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm moving across the country in less than two weeks for graduate school! I'm not sure when chapter 3 will be posted, but I do plan on completing the series before the end of summer. So the next chapter should be up soon(ish). ^^
> 
> Tumblr: Vostara  
> Twitter: VostaraFics


	3. three — you save yourself, from your desperate soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know the truth; perhaps you’ve always the truth.”

In recent visits, Jardani has favored hosting your conversations within the same barren forest. At the beginning, you had been fascinated by the blankets of soft snow, the eery emptiness, the life that was notably absent. But your curiosity, your admiration, dwindled. And frustration grew in its place.

You were tired.

Tired of walking the same path; tired of trudging your way to this unknown destination.

Jardani insists that you follow this trail, that something important is waiting to be discovered. That this destination is the key, one that unlocks the answers to all of your questions, quenches your curiosities.

“Just a little further,” he encourages.

“What am I meant to find?” You wonder.

He doesn’t respond.

And that worries you.

Because Jardani has changed; his voice is now coated with a frustration that has not once diminished since the moment you first noticed it. His answers are short, direct. And he has stopped entertaining conversations that involve your more abstract curiosities. His interest has shifted away from your endless desire for knowledge, focusing instead on the task he has coaxed you to pursue.

A voice interrupts your hike. “It’s getting worse,” it says.

And when you blink, you are in the hallway of your villa. The voice, Santino’s voice, comes from his office. The door is cracked open, allowing a sliver of light to escape the room.

“She spends the vast majority of her day,” he pauses, searching for the right descriptor, “dreaming.”

You take a step towards the office, careful to minimize the sound of your bare feet pressing against the marble floor.

He sighs. “Her condition is accelerating, too fast, much quicker than last time. I don’t know what I can do to help her.”

Last time? This has happened before?

But you’ve never met Jardani before. You would remember him, wouldn’t you? You would remember his voice, his words, your conversations. You would remember all of the times you’ve spent floating in space, standing in the woods.

How could you not remember?

You spend most of your day with Jardani; you would know if you’ve done that before.

“The facade is finally failing,” Jardani whispers.

You gasp and turn to look behind you, turn to look at the forest once more.

“Have we met before?” You say.

There is a long pause, and then he responds. “What do you believe?”

“No, there’s no way,” but a piece of you doesn’t believe in your words. Part of you knows that you’re lying, that there has always been a sense of familiarity when you are with Jardani. “I would remember,” you insist.

_“Amore?”_ Santino’s voice interrupts, pulling you away from Jardani.

His office door is pulled open and he stands in front of you in the hallway. His lips are pulled down in a frown, eyes scrunched together in concern. _“Amore,_ what are you doing?”

“I—” you begin, but find yourself unable to form anything resembling a coherent sentence. The truth is that you don’t know. You don’t even know how you got here; you don’t remember walking down this hallway.

“I wanted to see you.” Your words are unsure, hesitant.

And Santino sees right through them, but pretends that he can’t. “Were you missing me?” He teases, but the sound doesn’t match the sadness weaved into his features. It doesn’t hide the fake smile that he’s forced onto his lips.

You reach your hand towards him, which he uses to gently tug you into his embrace.

“Is something wrong?” He asks.

You shake your head, before pressing your cheek against his chest.

“You can tell me if something is bothering you,” he says. “You can trust me. I love you.”

“Only a fool trusts a D’Antonio,” Jardani says.

No. No, you don’t want to see him again. Not now. You don’t want to go back to the forest. No, please— Your fingers dig themselves into Santino’s shirt, desperate to cling onto the man. But when your eyes are forced to blink, the villa is gone.

“Are you a fool?” Jardani asks.

Your knees buckle beneath you and you collapse into the snow.

“Are you?” The voice persists.

“What do you want me to say, Jardani?” You inhale, exhale, trying to steady the pace of your breaths. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I want you to answer me,” he says. “Do you trust Santino? Do you believe everything that he has told you?”

“Santi would never hurt me,” you say.

“Answer the question.”

“Yes,” but your hesitation to answer has already betrayed the words you end up speaking. “Of course I do.”

Jardani notices. “You don’t.”

“Why is this relevant? What do you want to know?”

He pauses, before saying, “Look at your right forearm.”

“What?” You blink, confused.

“Look at it,” his voice insists. “Tell me what you see.”

You shake your head, out of frustration, annoyance. But you raise your arm anyway, raise it to be level with your gaze. “There’s nothing there—” your words come to an abrupt stop, an echo of your confusion.

There, just off-center, is a large blemish you’ve never noticed. It extends from the crook of your elbow to the edge of your wrist. The skin is raised, bumpy, a jagged scar. You skin has been torn, as though someone has stolen pieces of it, has sliced it away from you.

Was this a mark of torture, of sadism?

Or has something been etched into the skin before? Something important, something that needed to be destroyed, removed. Something you couldn’t remember.

“What is this?” You ask Jardani.

“Think,” he responds. “Where did it come from?”

Before you can stop yourself, the response exits your lips. “I was attacked.” The answer is given out of instinct. It feels trained, engraved into the deepest crevices of your mind.

The voice prods, “By who?”

But you cannot think of a response. For you have no recollection of a face; no memory of the events leading up to this gruesome imperfection carved into the skin.

“Who attacked you?”

You stand up, forcing yourself to walk deeper into the forest. “I don’t know,” you say. You know it’s pointless to try to escape from his voice, but you long to be away from this place, away from Jardani.

“You do,” he says. “Say their name.”

You clench your fists. “I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know—” you gasp. “Jardani, I don’t know,” you choke, words interrupted by a sob that had been trapped in the back your throat. “I can’t give you answers that I don’t know.”

“Accept the truth,” he says. His voice is calm, meant to soothe your growing anxiety. “Tell me who did this to you.”

You close your eyes.

Exhale a shaking breath.

In your mind, you see their face.

You know the truth; perhaps you’ve always the truth.

Perhaps you’ve told yourself that it was better to ignore it, that it would be easier, kinder. That this truth, this wound, is better forgotten. It was a truth you never wanted to rediscover, a pain you prayed would fade away with time.

And it did.

The pain had faded, had disappeared, had locked itself away. But Jardani had dragged it away from its hiding place, had pried open the bars that were keeping it trapped, protected.

Your response is a whisper.

“Santino.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: i’m so terribly sorry about the long wait! i moved across the country and life got pretty hectic (plus i was sick on/off for about a month due to multiple heatwaves). if you enjoy this fic, please considering giving this series a kudos or leaving a comment! even knowing just one person likes my work really does give me a little boost in morale. :)
> 
> twitter: VostaraFics  
> tumblr: Vostara

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thank you for reading my work. This will be a short series, roughly 3-5 chapters. If you like what you read, I would appreciate any kudos/comments! If you want more John Wick content, I also write an Ares x OFC fic called Hypnophobia.
> 
> Tumblr: Vostara  
> Twitter: VostaraFics


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